Page 52 of King’s Promise

I check the time on my watch, a timepiece worth more than most cars driven in London. “I have to go.” I lean down and kiss her lips. She resists engaging her own. “I’m sorry, please give me another chance.” I lay my hand over hers as it rests on the tabletop.

“I’ll consider it. However, you’re using up your allotted requests. I can’t wait to meet your brothers. Should I serve something special?” She’s warmer to my siblings than she is to me, and the sting of my gruffness is my own undoing.

“Not at all. I appreciate the offer,” I reply as she pulls her hand from mine.

I grab my jacket and head to the door.

Would it kill me to be nice for a change? Old dogs need time to learn new tricks. I’m set in my ways and I’m at a loss of how to keep my emotions in check. Hot, deep emotions which leave me thinking of her all day and all night. I’m drowning in Anya and in my battle to survive it, I’m lashing out when she deserves better. Dad always said we have to make decisions based on the good of the Bratva at all times.

Is it better to love her and risk losing her, or lose her because I won’t admit I’m in love?

20

Anya

Iwant to make the mansion pretty and impress Nikolay’s family. I have Alex drive me to a local shop to buy fresh flowers. Considering the size of the estates around us, it takes more than twenty minutes. When we get back, Hazel helps me cut the ends off the stems and put them in various vases decorating each room. I should put black roses, or a crow, in Nikolay’s bedroom. Instead, I find some white daisies with orange middles and add purple Russian sage to the mix. They go well with his dark furniture and will brighten the room.

I wonder if he remembers us meeting as kids. He was my first crush, even though we were young, I do remember. He has the same eyes, but he was more carefree then. It must be the weight of being thrown into the Bratva unexpectedly and the source of the creases on his forehead.

I thought he hated me when we were kids. It wasn’t until Mum told me boys tease you when they like you that made his attention less annoying. She was right, it turns out. Teasing is the universal language of a boy trying to get a girl’s attention. But now? I’m sure he must feel our chemistry. The trip to Paris was thoughtful and an incredible surprise. Followed by the presence of the ring, and I so love bling! I’m a simple girl at heart but the sparkles draw my eyes to it constantly. I twist it around my finger all day long, afraid I’ll lose it. I’m sure he picked it so I can fit in with women in high society. The class system is alive and well. Granted those on the bottom are not as bad as they used to be, but there is a hierarchy in society, and I doubt either will ever go away in my lifetime.

I search the house for tea lights and holders so I can place lavender scented candles strategically around the house. I help Hazel set the table and put tapered candles in Waterford crystal holders. Everything here must have been picked out by his mother. She has great taste and I wonder what she’s like. Nikolay doesn’t talk about his father much. It seems we’ve both buried our grief to carry out a wedding. I’d like to know what happened. Will he show the real Nikolay to me? Pillow talk is limited to sexual wants and desires as he drives me crazy with pleasure.

It’s late in the afternoon when the front door opens and commotion erupts. Two men stumble in with a few more behind them. I can tell right away who Nikolay’s brothers are, and hurry to greet them. I tug at my blouse to make sure my navel is properly covered, my jeans are clean with a few trendy holes in them, and my TOMS Parker sneakers are new. Nikolay insisted I order them, saying they were all the rage. I admit he’s quite the fashionista where I’m concerned. He says it’s because he knows what looks best on me and I wonder how he can discern that; we’ve only been re-acquainted for a week.

“Wow, you are a sight to behold,” one brother says as he pulls me into a bear hug. “I’m Roman, you’re going to be my sister-in-law.” He’s the baby of the family, Nikolay briefed me earlier.

“I guess that’s true.” I’m caught by surprise and can’t resist giggling as my hands grab his shoulders to steady myself. Apparently, the rest of the family isn’t as cold as Nikolay.

“Put her down, Roman,” Nikolay’s gruff voice makes everyone freeze. When did he get home?

“Sorry, brother, no harm done. See?” He places me gently on my feet and turns to embrace Nikolay in a Bratva hug, I assume.

“It’s my turn.” The brother with longer hair steps forward and gives me a civilized hug. “I’m Dmitry. Welcome to the family.”

Dmitry strikes me as the more serious of the two. Roman appears to be boisterous, but Nikolay told me he’s usually introverted. Dmitry is the numbers guy and has a calculating eye. I can tell his eye is hyper-focused on the messy bun I quickly threw together earlier and haven’t had time to fix. I’m trying not to feel judged as I nervously tuck wisps of hair behind my ear.

“Thank you. I’m so happy you are here, come in,” I instruct them as I lead the way into the formal living room. “I suspect you’re thirsty. I have a bit of everything in the liquor cabinet. Or tea, if you prefer.”

“Vodka,” Roman declares. I catch Nikolay’s glare as he walks past me to the bar, suddenly becoming a dutiful host. Clearly, he was jealous of Roman touching me. I find this refreshing. He’s jealous, a tell-tale sign he has feelings under his rough exterior and passive aggressive behavior.

Dmitry is dressed in jeans, but they look expensive. His boots remind me of the military. When he takes off his leather jacket and rolls up his sleeves, I can’t miss the tattoos on his arms. In fact, there are too many to discern their meaning. Ink used to mark time served in prison is no longer a statement, but nowadays tattoos are commonplace, so it’s anyone’s guess.

Roman has short hair, high cheekbones like his brothers but his are softer and more rounded, his jaw less angular. He must take after his mother. They’re all handsome and each speaks Russian to Nikolay, no doubt catching up quickly. They clink their shots of vodka, toss it back, and have another round. They are boisterous, but it doesn’t bother my fiancé. I relax knowing I won’t take the brunt of his mood tonight. He nods for me to join them and hands me a shot of vodka so I can toast to our upcoming nuptials.

After I slug down the liquor, I excuse myself to check on Hazel and dinner. We’re having lamb and potatoes roasted in rosemary. The house is filled with people like it’s a holiday and I’m happy. I welcome his family as if they are my own. They appear to approve of me and to be honest, I barely remember much about them when we lived in the same town. By the time dinner is served, the men are in dire need of sobering up.

The meal goes off without a hitch and conversation flies as the guys ask me questions and tell stories about Nikolay, intent on embarrassing him. Nikolay takes it in stride. After a while, I’m exhausted and excuse myself for bed. It’s not likely his brothers will be turning in any time soon.

Nikolay stands with me and slips his hand around my arm.

“Good night, Anya, thank you for making tonight special.”

“No problem, they’re sweet.” I glance up and see the smoldering desire in his eyes. Is it possible I’ve pleased him and there won’t be a slight thrown my way?

“I love them, we’re family.” His lips are close to mine. I pause, not wanting to break the spell. My feet become cement blocks as I yearn for him to kiss me.

He stands still as if he’s debating what to do. I reach a hand up to caress the side of his face. I like seeing him this way, approachable, human, maybe even vulnerable.

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